


Yes, Cardinal

by tortitude



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Authority Figures, BDSM, Bratting, Confessional, Dominance, M/M, Priest Kink, Submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 16:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15666927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tortitude/pseuds/tortitude
Summary: Struggling with the realization of your own potential bisexuality, you find yourself seeking confession and guidance, only to be met with the exact reason that drove you here.





	Yes, Cardinal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [drthicc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/drthicc/gifts).



> I just really wanted to see how badly I could break certain people with point-of-view fics. This one goes out to Dan.

You didn’t know where to turn. Your friends online had been more than supportive but sometimes… sometimes a guy needed to speak to someone in person. Face to face, so to speak. Or, perhaps, not truly face to face… perhaps through the relative safety of a confessional screen. At any rate, you sure as hell weren’t ready to come clean to your family, or to anyone you knew well. You needed to figure things out first before deciding whether or not you were ready to reveal your suspicions to your loved ones.

This is what led you to the church. It had been years since you set foot in one. To be perfectly honest, you had forgotten what one looked like, which is why you weren’t sure if something was truly amiss in the church you stumbled into, or if you were simply imagining things due to your fuzzy memory. It was late afternoon when you entered, nearly sundown; you had hoped to avoid too many prying eyes, and were somewhat dismayed to find more people than expected in silent prayer. The place was too quiet; you felt as if everyone could hear your entrance and your footsteps as you walked through the church in search of your goal.

Why were you here, anyway? It was a church. You were pretty sure you knew what the priest was going to tell you. That these thoughts were sinful and wrong in God’s eyes, that such a thing went against His divine plan. Maybe that’s what you wanted to hear, to give you a reason to deny it.

You expected a traditional confessional, but you found a closed door with a sign that said “Reconciliation Room” and another smaller, movable sign beneath it: “The Confessor Is In.” Another sign off to the side stated that a lit light outside the door indicated he was already occupied with someone.

Of course the fucking light was off.

You had no excuse now, other than sheer cowardice. You took a deep breath and pushed the door open, flipping the outside light switch to “on” as it closed with a heavy thud behind you.

Inside, the room was dimly lit. Your nostrils caught the scent of frankincense, and as your eyes adjusted, you realized someone was in the room with you. From the doorway your view was blocked by a screen, in front of which lay a cushioned kneeler; there was a chair off to the side that faced whoever was behind the screen, should one actually wish to speak face-to-face with the confessor.

Peeking out from behind the screen was just a glimpse of red robes.

Red fucking robes.

Jesus Christ, it was a fucking cardinal.

And it had been a fucking cardinal that had gotten you into this mess.

That… man, that… ugh. A cardinal, but not in the traditional sense. Strutting about on stage, sometimes in traditional clerical robes in red or black, with the symbol of the cult he led adorning the fabric and hanging around his neck. Sometimes he wore much more revealing clothing, a tight suit in black or white which left little to the imagination, be it thighs or what lay between them, much to the delight of certain groups within the cult. And even worse, the cane he carried, which he used to great effect swinging it around on stage like a pimp, pretending it was part of his anatomy and performing lewd simulated acts on stage with it.  _ Definitely _ not a cardinal in the traditional sense, but in a deliciously sinful sense that made you realize exactly how bad of a priest kink you had developed.

Why had you thought it a good idea to come here, again?

The confessor shifted in his chair. “Come in, come in,” he said softly, sounding reasonably friendly with an accent you couldn’t quite place just yet. It would be  _ really _ cowardly to bolt out of the room now. There was no way in hell you were about to discuss this face-to-face, especially not when the smallest glimpse of red robes was enough to make your stomach turn over. Oh, man, you hadn’t realized quite how bad you had it until that moment. You scurried towards the kneeler and fell to your knees, hoping the hitch in your breath from your nerves wasn’t too terribly evident to the other man in the room.

He didn’t speak again, leaving it up to you to say what it was you needed to say. And as far as that went, you had no earthly idea how to proceed. You weren’t exactly religious to begin with; any words you could come up with right now that you felt would begin a proper confession would merely be what you had heard on television or in movies, and likely the most cliché phrases on the planet.

Still silence from the other side of the screen, aside from another shift in the cardinal’s position and a soft clearing of the throat. Better to just be out with it, so you can get out of this intimidating room as quickly as possible. “Sorry, I’ve never done this. I don’t go to church. I just needed to get something off my chest.” More silence still. Looked like the ball was entirely in your court. “Okay… fine. Here goes.” You took a deep breath, saying the words aloud for the first time rather than typing them in a chat full of relative strangers. “So… I think I’m bisexual. Or something. I definitely like girls. I’ve been with girls. I probably wanna marry a girl.” Probably. Was there uncertainty in even that already? “It’s just… there’s some feelings coming up. About a… a guy.” Really, it was only the one that had consumed most of your waking thoughts, and some of your dreams as well.

“Another young man? Not as abnormal as some would have you believe.” Again with that accent. Still hard to place, but still somehow familiar.

“Not exactly.” Another deep breath. “He’s… older. An older man.” You  _ definitely _ weren’t about to give many more specifics than that. “An authority figure,” you conceded.

“Hm,” the voice mused from the other side of the screen. “You like men in authority?”

Oh, Jesus. Your breath caught in your throat. “I-I-I-” you stammered. This was not at all how you expected this to go. You expected a lecture, some penance, not that you would have said it anyway. Not… was he egging you on?

“You like the idea of it, perhaps. The practice of it, however? That remains to be seen, does it not?”

You wheezed. You audibly wheezed. There was no way in hell he didn’t hear it, and this was confirmed by the rumble of a low, evil-sounding chuckle emanating from behind the screen. Where had you heard that laugh before?

Your mind was still racing, searching for answers to a question you weren’t even sure you knew you were asking, when you realized that the clergyman had moved. No longer was he seated safely behind the flimsy confessional screen. He was at your side; all you could see was an imposing mass of red out of the corner of your eye. They weren’t supposed to come out from behind the screen like that, were they?

Then you turned your head and looked up at last. What you saw made you scramble to your feet and back away, heart hammering in your chest as you pressed yourself flat against the wall, as if you could melt through it and disappear from the room safely.

It was  _ him _ .

You felt your face flush as red as his robes, a surprising feat since the mere sight of him inches away from you had made your blood pool in other places, leaving you feeling quite lightheaded. “H-how…?” You didn’t even know what you were trying to ask, and you gave up on trying, instead looking over those all-too-familiar features in person for the first time, memorizing them as if you had never seen them before. His deep-set mismatched eyes surrounded by dark circles, his distinct lips, his sandy hair with strawberry tones, and his perfectly-trimmed moustache and dramatic sideburns… all so familiar and yet much more  _ real _ in person, in three dimensions rather than on a YouTube video of questionable quality.

Cardinal Copia’s lip curled up at one corner in a hint of a smirk as he saw the way you were looking at him. “Ah… I see. I am flattered, truly.” That accent; it was so obvious now, you wondered how you could have missed it. He took a step towards you; you had nowhere to go and now no easy way to book it for the exit. You simply stared, mouth agape and head bowed slightly, as he closed the gap between you. “I have a nasty habit of being where I need to be. Fate appears to have brought me to you.” He raised a gloved finger and touched it to your chest lightly, drawing it up in a straight line so it trailed over your Adam’s apple and lifted your chin to look straight at him. “Surely you noticed you hadn’t set foot in a typical church, boy.” His finger curled around and rested under your chin, while his thumb lovingly stroked the front just below the lip. Holy fuck, the first videos revealing his new role in the cult hadn’t been lying when they had spoken of his sexual charisma, though you certainly hadn’t believed it at first; it had come through later on, as he had assumed his new duties, but being assaulted with it in person was another thing entirely. This is why you had sworn not to attend the rituals that had taken place nearby; you knew you would react almost exactly as you were reacting now. Except this time it was only you and not a crowd of others. You had his full, undivided attention, and he was touching you, oh God, he was touching you, and still speaking to you in that accent that drove you wild.

“I can help you if you wish it, boy.” Oh, fuck, why did that turn you on so? “I suspect there are a lot of things you could learn about yourself under my care. If you consent to it, that is.”

Was he… propositioning you? Was this another fucking wet dream? You wanted to move to pinch yourself to check, but you were pinned beneath his intense stare. Furthermore, if it  _ was _ a dream, it was obviously going to be a  _ good _ one, and not one you were particularly keen on waking yourself up from. Slowly, you nodded, and he smiled almost predatorially.

You forgot what it felt like to breathe. The menace, and promise, behind that smile… you just  _ knew _ you were in for it now. There wasn’t a single doubt in your mind that the clergyman before you was perfectly capable of sniffing out every single button you had and then leaning on them until you broke, leaving a helpless shell of yourself in the wake of it. And you were simultaneously terrified and thrilled as to what you might discover about yourself under his care.

The back of his gloved fingertips stroked your cheek and then down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake as they curled underneath your palm. He brought your hand up to his lips; it wasn’t so much of a kiss he gave you as a fleeting brush of his lips against the back of your knuckles; you barely felt the tickle of his moustache before he pulled away, leaving you feeling a little bit miffed that it was over so soon. You tightened your grip on his hand before he let it fall away, and at this, his eyes flashed. Suddenly his hand was around your wrist, and he was squeezing firmly, even giving your arm a little shake as he spoke.

“Ah-ah-ah… don’t be so quick as to think you can simply take what you want and set the pace here, boy. I am the teacher, and you are here to learn.” He was standing so close now that his nose was almost touching yours. You caught a whiff of cologne; god, even his smell left you weak in the knees and willing to submit to whatever he had planned for you. “Is that quite understood?” You nodded silently in reply, and the corner of his mouth twitched. “Good.” He drew out that word, savoring it like wine in his mouth. “Now, I expect you might find yourself outside of what you normally find comfortable. In the interest of… education, I might not be inclined to listen to your protests. You will have to be very clear if you wish to put an end to the lesson, or to move on to another. A simple ‘no’ or a struggle will not suffice. Perhaps… ‘no, Cardinal’ will be enough to get my attention. Are we clear on that point?” He paused, waiting for your reply.

Sweet Satan, but you were clear, and had never been more clear of anything in your life. You nodded, and he tutted. “That’s not a proper answer, boy. Speak up. You know what it is I want to hear.”

You did, indeed. “Y-yes, Cardinal,” you managed to stammer out.

That same predatorial smile from before sent a chill down your spine that was not at all unpleasant.


End file.
